


In Your Light

by amyfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Endearments, First Time, Language Kink, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:07:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One morning, very early, Fëanor and Maedhros take a new step in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uumuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/gifts).



Fëanáro had been feverishly busy for the last ten days, working on not just one but multiple projects at the same time, scribbling frantic notes about languages in his forge, pausing momentarily while writing those notes up later in his study to sketch a design for a new way to cut gems, and dropping everything to rush back to the forge to work it out immediately. 

He had written a new book about primitive Quenya and created five new brilliantly-cut gems that seemed to hold an inner fire, each shining with a different colour: fire-red, bright orange, sky-blue, grass-green, and one final gem, largest than the rest, which was the exact colour of Maitimo's hair in Laurelin's light, and which he had named _The Lasair_. 

Maitimo had followed him faithfully throughout, collecting scattered notes before they landed in the forge-fires, patiently listening to Fëanáro explain the exact techniques that went into the making of each gem, assisting with the actual writing of the book at a stage when Fëanáro's attention was caught by one of the gems nearly going wrong, making and bringing meals to him, keeping Macalaurë out from underfoot and baby Tyelcormo quiet and entertained. Nerdanel was away presenting a new statue to King Olwë of Alqualonde - 'Ulmo Rising From The Deeps' - so it had been up to Maitimo to keep the household running smoothly. 

And he had done a brilliant job at it, Fëanáro thought, waking up from a too-exhausted restless sleep to stumble out to the kitchen and blink wearily at Maitimo's smile. It was very early - shortly before the Mingling - and Maitimo was not only awake but looked refreshed and happy, despite the fact that he had to have been awake at least part of the night with the baby. 

"Good morning," Maitimo said, holding out his arms, and Fëanáro went into them, a smile of his own appearing on his face, even despite his own exhaustion and the earliness of the hour. Maitimo was already taller than he was and still growing, now as old as he himself had been at Maitimo's birth. He was overtaken by a surge of love and pride for his beloved firstborn, and could not stop words of praise from spilling out of his mouth. 

"You have been by my side for half my life, my beautiful son," Fëanáro said, looking up at Maitimo with something of a dazed expression. "And every year you show yourself more able, more strong, more wise, more lovely." He let the grin that was inside him break through for just a moment. "Surely by the time you are a hundred years old you'll outshine the Two Trees, and Valinor will have a new source of light in your perfection." 

Maitimo laughed, his chest rumbling with it - sweetest of sounds - and Fëanáro drew back a little to watch his face more closely. He looked down at Fëanáro as though the brightest jewel in the land already rested there against him, tenderness and devotion written all over his face. "How could anyone not shine in your light, my beloved?" His voice was worshipful, strands of deeper meaning woven through it. 

Fëanáro, mind now fully awakened, began to tease out the threads of meaning in his tone. Like the light of the Two Trees mingled together, multiple layers of devotion mingled in his voice: like Telperion, the silver brightness of a son's love for his father, the creation for the creator, but shining brighter by far, golden like Laurelin, passionate love for Fëanáro himself, endless tenderness and loyalty, admiration for his passion, the works of his hands, and for his beauty. 

All of this flashed across Fëanáro's mind in a moment as he regarded Maitimo, head tilted. "Beloved?" he said at last, and it was half a question, and half a reply. 

Maitimo gave the smallest of nods, took a sharp indrawn breath of anticipation, and bent to press a quick yet urgent kiss to Fëanáro's mouth, as much different from the kisses he had given Fëanáro in younger days as Telperion's light was from Laurelin's. Fëanáro opened to him, welcoming, wanting. The kiss turned into a longer one, Maitimo holding Fëanáro close, pressing deeper. Maitimo was hard against him, sweetly needing, and as the kiss progressed his hips began to move in an unmistakable rhythm that made Fëanáro's breath catch and his heart beat faster. 

"Come upstairs with me," Fëanáro said when their kiss finally broke and Maitimo was gazing at him with lust-dazzled eyes, the front of his light house robe tenting visibly, chest heaving. "Come to bed with me." 

Maitimo groaned, hips jerking a little. " _Tatanya_ , yes," he breathed. He put out his hand, which was shaking slightly, and Fëanáro took it, feeling the pulse that beat there at his wrist, so vibrant and full of life. 

*****

Maitimo threw himself down on the bed, pulling Fëanáro down with him. Somewhere on the stairs, Maitimo's robe had disappeared, and just at the open door of the room, Fëanáro's had followed suit. Maitimo was laughing there on the bed, his eyes shining with happiness. Fëanáro could not help but laugh with him, settling down athwart his hips and leaning down to kiss him, feeling their erections meet and kiss too, rubbing against each other as though they were always destined to meet just like this. 

"I've looked at so many others," Maitimo said softly, breaking off the kiss, "and no one even comes close to you."

Fëanáro gave a pleased chortle of laughter. "But what of laws, customs, traditions -?" he began, and Maitimo interrupted him with a burst of his own laughter. 

"What of nonsense and foolishness?" he said, grinning. "What of stale custom and dull law? You taught me better than that, my own." He gave an upward thrust with his hips, teasing, lighthearted. "Please. I need to be inside you." 

Fëanáro placed a hand against Maitimo's face, caressing the beautiful features gently, meeting his eyes. "Once the essence of you was inside me. Now we have come full circle and it will be again." His thumb traced over Maitimo's cheekbone as though learning it by heart to carve later. 

With his other hand, Fëanáro fumbled in the drawer of the bedside table for the oil he knew was there. Outside, the Mingling was just beginning - Laurelin's golden light creeping up through Telperion's paler strands of silver, just beginning to spill through the window. Fëanáro unstoppered the bottle of oil and coated his fingers with it, heart racing, desperate to feel Maitimo within him. He gave a teasing stroke with his oiled hand down Maitimo's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip, as Maitimo let out an urgent moan, tossing his head from side to side on the pillow. 

Reaching between his own legs, he prepared himself, eyes on Maitimo's face, so brightly full of love and devotion it seemed as though he would outshine even the Trees. Fëanáro set the bottle of oil back down, and began to lower himself on Maitimo's erection. Maitimo rose up to a sitting position, putting his arms around his father, hands on his buttocks, and pulled him down onto his cock, steady and sure. The feeling of being penetrated was overwhelming, and Fëanáro caught his breath, then leaned in and pressed an urgent kiss to Maitimo's mouth. 

Fëanáro let Maitimo set the pace of their lovemaking, let his hands raise him up and spear him down on Maitimo's cock. His head fell back after a moment, hair tumbling in a sleep-tangled mess down his body. Maitimo leaned forward, kissing and biting his throat, leaving dark marks that would be visible there. The light in the room grew as the Mingling advanced and Laurelin's light began to outshine Telperion's. 

Glancing back at Maitimo, Fëanáro could see the brighter light spilling in through the window, turning the colour of his hair all to flame. "I got it exactly right - that jewel - for you - !" he panted out, laying small kisses all over Maitimo's face. "Such light, such beauty, such _lasair_ captured forever, first within your perfect body and second within this perfect gem - both my creations - !" He let out an inarticulate gasp as Maitimo took hold of his cock and began to stroke it in time with the thrusts of his hips. Fëanáro's head dropped to Maitimo's shoulder, and wordlessly, breathlessly, he came, spilling over Maitimo's hand and chest. 

Rubbing the spilled seed into his own skin with his hand, Maitimo continued thrusting into Fëanáro, looking up at him in silent wonder and adoration. Fëanáro was flushing and panting, eyes closed, shaking with exhaustion and bliss. Laurelin's light now touched him, warming his skin into gold, illuminating the pale face under the dark hair. He almost fancied he could see the flame that dwelt inside Fëanáro leaping forth to meet the light of Laurelin, burning and breathtaking. And with that look on Fëanáro's face, Maitimo found himself spilling eagerly, crying out voicelessly, clinging to his father, overwhelmed and breathless. 

They sank down together into the sheets. Maitimo wrapped himself around Fëanáro's smaller body, stroking his hair back from his face, murmuring endearments. Fëanáro opened his eyes, stroking a hand over Maitimo's firelit hair, mumbling _lasair, my beloved, lasair_ softly. 

Maitimo made a faint questioning noise, and Fëanáro raised himself on an elbow. "It's a word little used now," he said, continuing to stroke Maitimo's hair, "for _náro_ has become the general word for fire, flame. But _lasair_ means not fire itself, but the part of fire we can see, the colour of fire, the way it strikes the eye, leaping and dancing, ever-changing." He leaned forward and kissed Maitimo, long and slow. "It also can refer to a desired one, a beloved partner." 

Maitimo smiled and kissed Fëanáro in return. "Then you are my _lasair_ ," he said, "as I am yours. In your light, my heart can do nothing else but dance." He stroked a hand over Fëanáro's head and shoulder, silently encouraging him to lie down. "Rest. I will be here beside you." He drew a light sheet over Fëanáro, who curled up gratefully next to him and simply, easily, slipped into dreams.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Tatanya_ means 'my father' in Quenya. 
> 
> _Lasair_ is a [Scottish Gaelic word](https://glosbe.com/en/gd/flame) meaning the visible part of fire, the reddish-orange-gold colour of fire, and/or a romantic partner.


End file.
